Darker Days

by Jus Accardo

  Mom groaned. “I told you to be more careful.”

  “It’s not like I tried to break anything.”

  “Something tells me you didn’t try hard enough not to break anything, either.”

  “In my defense, it wasn’t a simple trap and slap…”

  “We can’t afford this.” She reached down and pulled a white envelope out from under a stack of papers. “This is the bill for that Mercedes you smashed.”

  “Oh! So not my fault. How was I supposed to know that Spring Heel was gonna land on the car? If it makes you feel any better, I think he was aiming for my head…”

  “If you keep this up, we won’t even be able to afford the rent.”

  She was right, of course, and it made me feel horrible. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a wrecking ball wrapped in blue jeans. Take my cut of this job and put it toward the repairs. Keep my paycheck for the next month, too.” A good start, but it didn’t feel like enough. Sure, it would cover the damages—I hoped—but I felt guilty about upsetting her. The bills that were piling up kept her awake at night. This was only going to make things worse. We got a fair amount of business, but the overhead in our line of work was sky high.

  As much as I hated the idea, I knew what would cheer her up. “I’ll even throw in pet possessions for the next month.”

  Mom raised an eyebrow. Aha! I had her.

  “I swear. Any that come in, I’ll go. No arguments.”

  “Deal.” She said, fighting back a smile. “I wish the biggest thing I had to worry about with you was teen drinking and pregnancy.”

  “Hey, show me a guy who can take down a dirt demon without pissing himself and I’ll smack his ass and let him take me to prom.”

  She rolled her eyes. “On that happy note, the phone’s been ringing off the hook again today.”

  “Anything good?” Though Mom’s idea of good rarely matched mine. Hers was artifact theft and conspiracy. Mine was more rampaging spirits and demon possession.

  The urban odd couple of the occult—that was us.

  “Four cheating spouses, two inheritance scams, a missing child, and a missing sister.”

  “Bah,” I gave an offhanded wave. “All normal cases. Boo-ring.”

  As far as the good people of Penance were concerned—most of them, anyway—the Darker Agency did the standard detective thing. We solved all sorts of cases. Stolen inheritances, missing loves ones, we even spied on a cheating spouse or two, but what we specialized in was far from common knowledge.

  What we specialized in was just a bit…darker.

  Demonic possessions, angry ghosts, all the things going bump in the night that the general population had no idea existed, we did it all. They were what Mom referred to as our alternative cases. My favorite kind. We were like the A-Team of the Otherworld, only with a permanent address and laminated business cards.

  “Oh. And I managed to get some information out of officer Barnes about that break in at Saint Vincent’s last week.”

  Managed to get some information… That could mean a million different things coming from my mom. “I don’t know why you’re so interested. It’s a crumbling church. There’s nothing of value except the building itself.”

  “Exactly. Why break into a landmark like Saint Vincent’s? There has to be a reason.”

  “Maybe someone needed to pray really bad?” And she said I went digging for trouble? It was just a stupid old church. “Eh. Occultist maybe? What’d you drag out of Binkie Barnes?”

  That earned me Mom’s patented look-of-death. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

  Was it my fault the guy’s parents named him Bindle Key Barnes? With a name like that, you’re begging for a nickname like Binkie. “He’s the Penance version of Deputy Dewey right down to his fanboy crush on Gale Weathers. He literally turns into a blubbering mass of schoolboy-goo whenever you’re around. That’s kind of hard to respect.”

  More glaring.

  I threw up my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Fine. What did you find out from our illustrious and manly Sheriff Barnes?”

  “It wasn’t much. No one was there at the time, but witnesses say they saw a young girl leaving the building around dawn.”

  “A young girl, huh? Very specific. Just the kind of Mayberry detective work I’d expect from the Penance PD.”

  Mom rolled her eyes as the phone started to ring. “It’s your turn. I’ve dealt with it all day.”

  “I have homework,” I complained. “If I don’t focus on my studies, how ever will I get into a good college?”

  She ignored me and went back to filing. The phone kept ringing.

  I tapped the receiver. “It could be Ed McMahon. You might have won a million dollars.”

  She waved a paper at me, grinning. “Then crack out the quartz, baby-girl, because Ed McMahon is dead.”

  Huh. She had a point. Sighing, I picked up the cordless and slipped into secretary mode. “Darker Agency, how can I help you?”

  “I’d like to speak with Klaire Darker, please.”

  “Who can I tell her is calling?” The guy sounded young, but it was hard to tell on the phone.

  “My name is Lukas Scott. I’m interested in hiring Ms. Darker.”

  I sank into the chair and cringed when my butt hit the cushion. Slosh. Oops. “I can schedule a consultation for you. What day is convenient?”

  “It needs to be right away. I can come now.”

  Wow. Pushy. Pushy meant desperate. Desperate usually meant money. And money was good. I flicked a pen across the room. It sailed through the air and smacked into Mom’s leg before bouncing to the floor and rolling under the mini fridge. “Consult now?” I mouthed. She nodded and went back to the filing. “How soon can you be here, Mr. Scott?”

  “Now,” his voice said as the front door swung open, letting a blast of chilly October air inside. That chilly air stole the breath from my lungs and sent goose bumps prickling along my skin.

  Or it might have been him.

  Dark, shaggy hair that might’ve been in desperate need of a trim—if it didn’t work so damn well for him. Piercing, liquid brown eyes that radiated trouble—and I loved trouble. He wore a leather jacket over a tight black T-shirt and worn jeans that were just a bit too baggy. Oh yeah. Bad-boy-vibe was off the charts.

  “Holy house of hogs getting blasted by the blue birdie brigade…”

  “Excuse me?” he said as the door slammed closed behind him. Head tilted sideways, he was staring at me like I had two heads, a forked tongue, and neon spikes growing out of my back.

  I swallowed and gripped the edge of Mom’s desk, hoping to God that my cheeks weren’t fire engine red. “Um, I mean, can we help you with something?”

  “Klaire Darker?”

  “I am,” Mom said, stepping forward. She set the folder down and extended her hand. “And you are?”

  He took her hand and gave what my dad would have referred to as a proper shake. “Lukas Scott. I just spoke with your daughter about a consultation.”

  Daughter, huh? How had he put two and two together? I studied Mom. We were day and night. She was light skinned with crystal blue eyes and white-blond hair, and I took after my dad, with olive skin, dark hair, and eyes to match.

  Mom must have been just as suspicious. “Who referred you to us, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I’m familiar with your family.”

  “Well, then you must know we don’t take cases from minors.” She turned and gave me the I’m-talking-to-you eye. “Ever.”

  “I’m aware of your policy, Ms. Darker, and I assure you I’m eighteen.”

  She gestured to the seat on my left and he took it. “What exactly is it you need from me, Lukas?”

  “I need to track someone down.”

  Bah. Missing person? It didn’t get lamer than that. I picked up a pen. “Their name?”

  “The family’s last name is Wells.”

  Could he be more vague? “Do you have a first name?”

  He s
hook his head. “Nothing current. This person would be the descendant of a woman named Meredith Wells. Born in Penance in the eighteen hundreds.”

  I scribbled some notes.

  “There’s also something else. A box. I need to find it.”

  “What kind of box?” I asked, sticking the end of the pen in my mouth. I needed to do something to distract myself from staring at the guy, so I started picking at the edge of Mom’s address book. “And was this your box? Is it connected to this Wells family you’re looking for?”

  He hesitated, then said, “It’s not my box and no, it is not directly related to the Wells family.”

  Not directly related. Hmm.

  “You’re being a bit vague,” Mom said, slipping into observation mode.

  Silence.

  We got a wide range of cons and bullshit artists on a daily basis looking to get us to steal their loot for them—we were the best after all—but Mom could always see through it. I attributed this to her time spent with Dad. He might not be around much anymore, but he’d left a lasting impression. It was great for business—bad if you were a teenage girl trying to slip something past your parental.

  “What’s inside the box?” she pressed.

  No answer.

  “I need all the facts if I’m to do my job.” Mom stood and pointed to the door. “If you’re here wasting my time, I suggest you leave.”

  “Sin,” he said after a moment.

  Mom and I said at the same time, “Sin?”

  “Sin. That’s what was inside the box. Seven of them, to be exact.”

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean by sin?” She sank back into the chair. He had her full attention again.

  Had mine, too.

  “The box containing the Seven Deadly Sins. That’s what’s been stolen.”

  “Are you serious?” I turned to Mom. She used to tell me stories about it when I was a kid. Some parents told their children bedtime stories about knights in shining armor and fairy tale princesses—I got folklore and boogiemen. “Wasn’t the box tucked away in a little monastery in Tibet?”

  “That was never proven. The true location of the box is a mystery—for good reason.” Her lip twitched with the barest hint of a smile. Hah. I did listen once in awhile when she talked. Granted not all the time—but once in awhile.

  Lukas cleared his throat. “Not that big a mystery. The box has actually been here. Since the early nineteen hundreds.”

  “Here? As in, Penance? No way was something that big sitting under our noses without us knowing…”

  “There’s an old church—”

  “Saint Vincent’s,” Mom said, stomping her foot. She turned and pinned me with an I told you so smile. “I knew something felt off about that robbery.”

  Lukas cleared his throat. “The theft of the box isn’t the worst part.”

  I pulled the pen from my mouth and tapped it against the desk. “Not seeing how it could get worse than that.”

  “The box was opened.”

  Definitely worse. “Color me corrected.”

  “Earlier, the Sins were released. They’ve infected human bodies and have five days to find a witch and the person who released them.”

  “Back up a sec,” I said. “Infected?”

  “Infected,” Lukas repeated. “Think of it as a possession of sorts. When out of the box, they need vessels to carry their essences. They infect a human body—one vulnerable to their sin—and use it as a vehicle. The person is still in there—still conscious and unharmed—but has no control.”

  “Jesus,” I breathed.

  “What happens if they find what they’re looking for? A witch and the person who set them free?” Mom’s face was pale.

  “With all seven Sins present, a powerful witch can use the blood of the one who released them to create a potion that will bind them to the human bodies they invaded. They will be free of the box forever, and those whose bodies they’ve stolen will be lost, their essences destroyed.”

  “Craps,” I whispered. “Okay, so seven innocent people, five days.” I turned to Mom. “Gotta love a challenge, right? Gonna have to move fast on this one.”

  She nodded, turning back to Lukas. “What happens in five days if they don’t find what they’re looking for? The witch and the one who set them free?”

  “If they’re forcibly put back in the box before the time runs out—the five days—then nothing. Everything will go back as it was and the bodies they’ve stolen will be unharmed. However, the box has a failsafe, and this is where the problem lies. After five days’ time, the box will recall the sins. If that happens, the innocent people they’ve taken control of will be recalled with them. Lost forever to the box.”

  “Right, then. So less than five days.” Mom ran a hand through her long blond hair and sighed. “We’ve been getting calls like you wouldn’t believe today. I’m guessing our recent flux in business is due to the Sins being free.”

  “Hah!” I exclaimed, suddenly remembering the zombie. “I told you I didn’t tease that zombie. I bet the Sins had something to do with it going all Jeffrey Dahmer.”

  “Whatever you’ve seen so far is child’s play,” Lukas said, shooting me a sidelong glare. “The Sins were set free in 1959 and after forty-eight hours out of the box they’d destroyed two towns and cost hundreds their lives. It was carnage and chaos the likes of which you can’t possibly imagine.”

  “Two towns…1959?” Mom was fascinated. I could tell by the glossy look in her eyes. “The Sins were responsible for the 1959 Penance riots?”

  I had no clue what they were talking about because history had always been snoozeville for me. “1959 riots?”

  “Penance was founded in the early seventeen hundreds. By the nineteen hundreds, it was a thriving textile town with a high society set that almost rivaled the city.” Mom tapped the edge of her desk. “In 1959, there was a riot at the plant. It spilled into the streets and engulfed the entire town.”

  Lukas shook his head. “The riot at the plant was just one occurrence. A single spark in a raging inferno.”

  “That sounds ominous.” I was about to make a joke, but Mom glared at me. Sticking the pen back into my mouth, I gestured for him to continue. How dare I interrupt story time!

  “The foreman at the mill was one of the town’s most well respected men. On the first night of the Sin’s freedom, he was unlucky enough to encounter Greed. By the time he went to work the next day, he was convinced his salary was unfair and demeaning.”

  I snorted. “Everyone in America feels that way nowadays.”

  Lukas gave me a strange look and continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Unfortunately, it was the same day the owner was slated to visit the mill. He came—with his wife and two children. The foreman, having whipped the employees into a frenzy, led the workers in revolt.”

  This didn’t sound like a story that ended in picket lines and teamster meetings. “I’m betting it didn’t go well for the owner.”

  He shook his head. “He and his family were killed—ripped to shreds and stripped of anything with possible value.”

  It was bad enough the guy and his wife had to bite it—but two little kids? “That’s seriously messed up.”

  “It was horrible,” Lukas agreed. “And of course, Greed is never satisfied. The survivors of the mill riot wanted more, and they took to the streets to get it, looting and pillaging all the way into the neighboring town.”

  “Upping the body count,” Mom whispered, horrified.

  “Correct,” Lukas answered. “Enter the other Sins. Lust and Envy ripped families apart, and Sloth decimated the local businesses. Gluttony caused people to consume food in excess, emptying their stomachs only to eat more. In three days’ time, they depleted the town’s food supply and ravaged the economy. The Sins were recaptured soon after that, but of course the damage had been done. The towns were in ruin.”

  Something wasn’t right here. Sure, Lukas could be some dorky—but seriously hot—history nerd, but al
l the detailed intel about the Sins? No human would know all that. He was talking like he’d been there. Like he’d seen it all go down. “This stuff is nitty-gritty—no way did you find this sitting between the dusty pages of some history book. How do you know all this?”

  “He’s an Otherworlder,” Mom said. “Obviously.”

  “Otherworlder?” Lukas looked from Mom to me, confused.

  “Non-human,” I supplied. I loved when she was wrong. It gave me warm fuzzies since, sadly, it didn’t happen often. “Which you obviously aren’t.”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed. She must have realized I was right. “Lukas, tell me how you seem to have such an intimate knowledge of the box’s history.”

  He was quiet for a moment before standing, shoulders squared. “I was in the box.”

  Chapter Three

  “You were in the box,” I repeated as a chill crept up my spine.

  Expression blank, he nodded. “Yes.”

  “You’re one of the Sins,” Mom said, understanding.

  “Yes,” he said again.

  “Wait. One of the sins? One of the Seven Deadly Sins? Standing here in our office?” I sucked in a deep breath and jumped from the chair. Nodding to Mom, I said, “This doesn’t freak you out at all?”

  She ignored me and gestured to Lukas. “So, you’ve…infected this body?”

  “This body was infected,” he confirmed. His jaw tensed, then twitched. Arms rigid by his sides, he sat back down.

  I did the same, refusing to take my eyes off him. It was because he was a Sin. A bad guy. Not because he was easy on the eyes. Really. “Which Sin?”

  “Wrath.”

  Mom’s expression darkened. I knew that look. It was the Something smells fishy in Freeport glare. “If you’re one of the Sins, why are you coming to us for help? If they go down, you go down as well.”

  “When I said I was familiar with your family, it was because I knew your father, Klaire.”

  “How did you know my father?” Mom was queen of the poker face. She might as well have been asking the deli guy for a pound of Swiss for all the urgency in her voice. But I knew her better than anyone in the world. She was thrown by his admission.